


As We Are Now

by stardropdream



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Deepthroating, M/M, Mirror Sex, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Season/Series 07, Season 8 Doesn't Exist, Top Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-08 23:42:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18905041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: “You really have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?” Keith asks just before he kisses the breath from Shiro’s lungs.Shiro isn’t sure if the question’s rhetorical or not, so he focuses instead on cupping Keith’s face and dragging him in close, licking his lips and sucking his tongue into his mouth.But Keith tips away with a breath, his hands splayed over Shiro’s bare chest. “I’m serious, Shiro.”Or: Keith decides to show Shiro just how beautiful he is.





	As We Are Now

**Author's Note:**

> I received a request all the way back in January (I think) to write a fic where Shiro has a little bit of xenobiology because of his clone body... and then this ballooned outward into the shenanigans listed in the tags. 
> 
> A million, trillion thanks to [Sarah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ailurea/pseuds/ailurea) for reading this over for me. You're the best. ♥
> 
> (Edited December 2019 for typos/grammar.)

“You really have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?” Keith asks just before he kisses the breath from Shiro’s lungs. 

Shiro isn’t sure if the question’s rhetorical or not, so he focuses instead on cupping Keith’s face and dragging him in close, licking his lips and sucking his tongue into his mouth. 

But Keith tips away with a breath, his hands splayed over Shiro’s bare chest. “I’m serious, Shiro.” 

Shiro frowns at him, dropping his hands from Keith’s cheeks to toy at the hem of his shirt, wanting to yank it up over Keith’s head and resume what they’re doing. Keith is wearing one of Shiro’s old shirts today, faded color and slipping low over his shoulder to expose his collarbone. Shiro loves it when Keith wears his shirts. 

Shiro keeps playing with the shirt rather than look up at Keith and answer the question. He doesn’t really want to launch into a long discussion about Shiro’s underlying and, quite frankly, expansive list of issues. But he also doesn’t want to lie to Keith. He focuses on the shirt instead, worrying it between his fingers. 

He shrugs, just a little helpless, and curls his fingers up in the fabric. “I can be pretty for you if you want, baby.” 

He half-expects Keith to scowl at him or sigh at him in that disappointed huff he breathes whenever he knows that Shiro’s avoiding an issue. Instead of doing any of that, though, Keith just studies Shiro’s face. 

His hand, when he rests it at Shiro’s cheek, is unbearably gentle, his thumb ghosting along his cheekbone. “Oh, Shiro,” he sighs. “I wish you could see what I see.” 

Shiro gives him a faint smile in response and leans into him, closing his eyes and just appreciating that anchoring touch. He’s always loved how freely Keith touches him, knowing how truly rare and lovely a gift it is. He thought it before everything, but especially now that they’ve returned to Earth. Those first few months of being so touch-sensitive had been almost too much— even a hand on his cheek like this could be enough to render him a sobbing mess. Shiro’s never going to take Keith’s touch for granted again. 

“You’re beautiful,” Keith tells him, staring into his eyes when Shiro opens them again. 

“Thank you,” Shiro says, faintly, for lack of anything else to say. Keith’s brow pinches in response and Shiro leans in closer, kissing him, trying to coax away the tension in his face. When he draws back, he presses his forehead to Keith’s and murmurs, “I’m glad you think that.” 

Keith sighs and kisses him again, gently, and nuzzles at his jaw. It’s an affectionate gesture and one that eases the tension from Shiro’s shoulders. He leans back against the pillows and tugs Keith down against him, still playing with his shirt. 

Keith nips and licks at his jaw and down his neck, nibbling affectionately. He’s into it enough that Shiro can feel the scrape of Keith’s fangs, the telltale shift of his Galra features in heightened situations.

Shiro ducks his head and nuzzles at Keith’s shoulder in turn, dragging his hands underneath Keith’s shirt and running his fingertips along his back. Keith hums and then lets out a little hiss. 

“Careful,” Keith murmurs and Shiro drops his hands immediately. He hadn’t noticed his nails shifting into claws.

And that’s the thing, really. It isn’t just Keith who turns more Galra during sex now.

Shiro flops back onto the pillows with a little sigh, frowning at his hands. His nails aren’t quite claws yet but they’re pricked up enough to be too sharp if he isn’t careful. Keith’s in his space, immediately threading their fingers together. 

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, just… you know,” Shiro sighs. “Galra stuff.” 

“Yeah,” Keith murmurs, studying Shiro’s face for signs of distress. 

Keith’s concern is likely warranted. It’d taken some getting used to, after all, once they figured out part of Shiro’s cloned body incorporated Galran genes in order to enhance Haggar’s control. 

The journey home to Earth was rife with so many more problems that sex with Keith hadn’t even been on the table, no matter how much both of them wanted it after getting together. It was all too much. Shiro could hardly handle holding Keith’s hand without breaking down, touch-sensitive and overwrought in a new body. He’d still felt disconnected from himself. 

Their first time, though? He’d nearly shredded Keith’s lip open with his unexpected fangs. Keith’s hips had been marked up for weeks from Shiro’s sudden claws digging too deep into his flesh. Shiro’d been _devastated_ to have hurt him, even more so than by the realization that his body had maybe jumped the human track just a little. 

Keith pets the hair away from his face and kisses his nose. “It’s okay.” 

“I know,” Shiro sighs. 

He kisses the corner of Keith’s mouth in apology and squeezes Keith’s hands. Once he lets go, Keith presses his hands to Shiro’s chest instead, just stroking over his skin, soothing him. 

Shiro focuses on that touch, the drag of Keith’s skin against his, the shape of his touch. Even now, most days it doesn’t always feel like his body. He’s covered in scars that he remembers getting but aren’t something _this_ body actually experienced. There are still days when Shiro can’t tell the line between his soul memories and his body memories, what belongs to the original him and the clone him. They’re both him. He knows that now, but it’s definitely an existential crisis that sideswipes him at frankly inopportune times. Sometimes all he wants to do is just exist but even that’s a question mark sometimes. 

Shiro stares at his hands and waits until his breathing calms enough and his claws shrink back to nails, blunt and unobtrusive. His Altean hand, unchanged from any of it, settles at Keith’s hip and squeezes. 

Keith’s hand skates over Shiro’s bicep and forearm then back up again, squeezing affectionately. Keith’s nails hint at claws but he has more control over his own Galraness. It’s his, inherent and natural. But for Shiro, anything Galra in his body isn’t actually his to wield. 

“I’ll get control of it eventually,” Shiro offers apologetically. 

“Do you want to stop?” 

Shiro shakes his head. “Definitely not.” 

Keith smiles at him and kisses his nose and then his cheek, then along his jaw again. He nuzzles up against his ear and murmurs his name, hot and quiet against his skin. Shiro closes his eyes and shivers. 

“Shiro… touch me,” Keith offers quietly and Shiro’s quick to respond, tugging Keith’s shirt off. 

Keith stretches his arms over his head and arches his back, putting himself on display. Shiro takes his time, dragging his eyes over Keith’s body, all those lean muscles, that little waist. Purple stripes run up over his hips and curve along his waist and upward. Shiro traces them reverently, keying his fingers along Keith’s ribs. 

Keith makes a show of it, taking his time to lower his arms down so they drape over Shiro’s shoulders, rolling his body forward as Shiro touches him with his Altean hand playing at the hemline of Keith's boxer briefs, his left hand splayed out along Keith's ribs. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Keith murmurs before Shiro can say the same to him. Keith’s eyes, dark and heated with desire, trace over Shiro’s body, his fingers swirling along the bumps of his spine. 

Shiro shakes his head a bit, dismissively, and smiles as he leans in to kiss him. 

But Keith sighs and leans back, frowning at Shiro’s response. “Shiro.”

Shiro sighs back, tracing his fingers along the pathway of Keith’s stripes, admiring that juxtaposition between human and Galra, the warm honey and purple sky of Keith’s skin. 

Keith drags in a deep breath and Shiro feels the swell of his chest beneath his fingertips. Keith’s fingers skim along his jaw and curl around his chin, forcing him to look up and meet Keith’s eyes. 

“You can’t honestly think you’re not beautiful,” Keith says, slowly, studying Shiro’s face. 

Shiro’s eyes flicker down, his thumb brushing along the jagged edge of one of Keith’s scars and shakes his head. “I know I’m not ugly.” 

Keith snorts at the lukewarm response. Shiro can’t blame him. 

“I think you’re the most beautiful person— the most beautiful _anything_ — in the entire universe,” Keith says without a single trace of embarrassment. He stares into Shiro’s eyes and holds that gaze, unrelenting. 

“I know you think that.” Shiro smiles, eyes softening. “You always see the best in me, Keith.” 

Shiro knows he’s not ugly. He knows that Keith thinks he’s attractive. He knows that, on anybody else, the missing arm and scars wouldn’t ever be a reason to consider a person ugly. Keith’s features turn more Galra during sex and Shiro loves that about him— loves that he can render Keith breathless and excited enough to lose control. These aren’t things that Shiro would see on others and think _ugly_. But for Shiro, it's different. It isn’t the way he looks, but what it means. 

His time without a body made him realize how much it was just that: a body. He’d maintained his appearance as a soul in the Black Lion simply for lack of imagination. He couldn’t fathom being fathomless. But it’s strange now to see himself and know he was once bodiless, that the entity he’s staring at is at once himself and not himself. 

Shiro’s always had a strange relationship with his body. Before everything, it felt so much like a cage. Now, it feels like a cage still but for different reasons entirely. He might be free of the disease that once anchored him, but now he changes when too emotional and carries scars of injuries this body never knew and yet remembers. 

Now, he looks in the mirror and knows that, once, he wasn’t even alive, not human, not body. Not. He wasn’t anything at all. 

It’s difficult to come back from the edge of nothing.

And through all that, Shiro knows this: Keith knows him completely and believes him to be beautiful— and he knows Keith never says what he doesn’t mean. 

“Shiro,” Keith says quietly. “Will you let me show you?” 

“Hm?” Shiro’s gone back to tracing his fingers along Keith’s stripes, thumbing at his dark nipples absently and sweeping down along his abs, tracing each line of muscle. 

“Do you trust me?” 

An absurd question. Shiro huffs a breath and then smiles at Keith, warm and fond. “With my life.” 

“Then come on. I have an idea,” Keith announces and scrambles off the bed. He grabs Shiro by the hand and scoops up a few pillows under his other arm before tugging him off the mattress so he’ll follow. 

Shiro does follow him, of course, frowning as Keith doesn’t lead them from the bedroom as Shiro expected but instead heads towards the bathroom. He’s down for shower sex with Keith, although he isn’t sure if he’s down for their only pillows getting wet in the process. But maybe pillows will help, since the last time they’d tried fucking in the shower, Keith’d nearly slipped and smashed his face against the spigot. 

But instead of entering the bathroom, Keith throws the pillows down on the carpet and squeezes Shiro’s hand. 

“Sit down,” he says and steps to the bathroom door, swinging it shut with a decisive snap. It’s as Shiro’s sitting down that he realizes the reason. There’s a full-length mirror on the door and Shiro’s in perfect view of it as he sits down next to the pillows. 

“Keith…” Shiro begins, uncertain. 

Keith kneels beside him so that he doesn’t block Shiro’s view of the mirror and runs his hands over Shiro’s thighs. “I want you to see,” he says. “Is this okay?” 

Shiro could say no. He almost says no. He knows if he did, Keith would nod, accept it, and kiss Shiro until all the anxiety melted away. But, what Shiro said was true, in the end: he trusts Keith. 

He smiles, a little shy. “Guess you have something in mind, huh, baby?”

Keith smiles back, grateful, and shuffles forward to cup Shiro’s face, turning his face away from the mirror and kissing him. Shiro sighs and lets himself melt into the touch. 

“Everything you do to me,” Keith murmurs, punctuating with a kiss, “everything I do to you… I want you to watch it in the mirror and see what I see. Can you do that?” 

Shiro glances to his side, back over at the mirror, his eyes skittering over his reflection. It’s easier to focus on Keith. Keith meets his eyes in the mirror, looking at Shiro rather than himself, and smiles before leaning in and kissing Shiro’s jaw, maintaining that eye contact. 

“Can you?” he whispers against Shiro’s skin, eyes on Shiro in the mirror.

“Yeah,” Shiro answers, watching the way Keith’s hair falls across his face. 

“Good,” Keith hums and draws away. 

Shiro’s attention snaps back to Keith properly as he watches Keith’s thumbs hook in his underwear and tug down, just enough to tease Shiro with the slope of his skin, the hair leading down. 

Keith catches Shiro staring and smirks. “Come here and suck me off?” 

Shiro grins back. His trepidation about the mirror aside, he can hardly resist such a request. He’d never want to, anyway. Keith sits up and shoves one pillow beneath his knees and throws the other one down in the space between them so Shiro can stretch out across it. 

Shiro does just that, shuffling forward on his knees and then stretching out, belly pressing down into the pillow. Once settled, he reaches out to hook his fingers in Keith’s underwear and ease it down the rest of the way, exposing him. 

He loves Keith’s dick. It’s still human enough but is easily the most visibly Galra thing about him. His stripes start just above his cock before they bloom upward along his body. The long length of his cock flushes purple in most lights. Shiro’s favorite part is the bumpy ridges along the underside— loves how each one feels on his tongue or inside him. Galra dicks are, apparently, strangely heavy when hard— or at least Keith’s is. Shiro loves the weight of it in his hand, how deceptively weighted it feels. 

There are very few things Shiro loves more than sucking Keith off. He loves the feel of it on his tongue, the taste of Keith’s slippery come, almost spicy in comparison to his own. He loves how responsive it is, how inhumanly it twitches and pulses in Shiro’s mouth when Keith particularly enjoys that thing with his tongue Shiro likes to do. 

Right now, Keith’s only half-hard as Shiro tugs his underwear down but Shiro gets his hand around him and strokes him off, a leisurely pace, just appreciating the look of Keith’s cock disappearing into the circle of his fist. 

Keith sighs out his pleasure, content to let Shiro take his time. His fingers card through Shiro’s hair but his hand closest to the mirror stays still— not blocking Shiro’s view, Shiro realizes. 

He glances over, curious despite himself, and watches himself jerk Keith off. Keith’s cock’s already flushing the matching purple to his stripes and the cock shudders in Shiro’s loose fist. 

“Mm,” Keith hums, such a quiet sound. Shiro loves those so much, really— the quiet little things he can draw from Keith, unnoticeable and not worth holding back. Spontaneous and earnest. 

Shiro adjusts and gets comfortable as Keith hardens in his hand and then he opens his mouth and licks over Keith’s cock, dragging down from tip to root and back up again. He curls his mouth around Keith’s cockhead and suckles, keeping his mouth soft, his tongue lapping at the crown. 

Keith groans, body arching and hips pulsing forward. 

Shiro closes his eyes and sinks forward, taking Keith into his mouth. He suckles gently, laving his tongue over Keith’s sensitive skin, squeezing his hand down by the ridged base. Keith’s cock shudders against his tongue and then Keith rocks his hips forward, fucking easily into Shiro’s mouth.

Shiro keeps his mouth open, his lips pillowing against Keith’s cock as he guides Keith forward. 

“Hey,” Keith whispers, affectionately, his fingers curling in his hair. He waits for Shiro to glance up at him before asking, “Grab the lube?” 

Shiro nods and mouths at Keith’s cock as he reaches out across the room with his Altean hand, fetching the bottle of lube for Keith. He’s not sure he’ll ever get used to the feeling of an arm stretching the full length of a room, his arm unhinged from himself, but he can’t deny the convenience of it. He grabs blindly at the bedside table but focuses on sucking Keith’s cock, his tongue curling around him. Once his arm returns to his side, he places the lube in Keith’s outstretched hand. 

“Good boy,” Keith murmurs, so gently, and Shiro groans low in his throat and shimmies closer, swallowing around Keith. Keith’s breath hitches and he tips his head back, fingers tight in Shiro’s hair. “Fuck… yeah, Shiro. That.” 

Shiro repeats the motion, bobbing forward and curling his tongue along the length of Keith’s heavy cock. Keith tugs him forward by his hair and Shiro goes willingly, smiling around the cock in his mouth, tongue laving, lips pressing over him. 

He looks up at Keith, watching the pleasure on his face. Keith's mouth is slack, panting, face flushed. His canines have their telltale point and if Keith were to open his eyes, Shiro knows they’d be slit like a cat’s. The fingers plucking through his hair are sharp with claws. 

As if responding to Keith’s change, Shiro feels his own claws sharpen. He’s careful as he plants his hand against Keith’s hip to steady himself as he bobs his mouth over his cock. 

“Hey,” Keith whispers, petting his fingers through Shiro’s hair. “Are you looking, Shiro? Look at how well you take me.”

Shiro keens his answer and forces his eyes to move away from Keith’s face and back to the mirror, studying himself in the reflection. He can barely look at himself, wanting to focus instead on the curve of Keith’s cock as it disappears into his open, waiting mouth. Wants to focus on how good Keith feels against his tongue, the press of his cockhead bulging Shiro’s cheek. Shiro’s eyes go soft at the edges, jaw slack as he runs his tongue along the underside, watching Keith’s hips tremble and tick forward, pressing just a little deeper into Shiro’s willing mouth. 

He looks away from the mirror and back up at Keith. Keith’s watching him, so affectionate in his gaze. He pets his fingers through Shiro’s hair, and his other hand comes up, tracing his fingers along Shiro’s distended cheek, bulged with Keith’s cock. 

“You’re so good,” Keith murmurs. “Take me deeper?” 

Shiro keens again, eager to obey. He slackens his mouth and pushes himself forward. He looks up at Keith, holds his eyes as he swallows around his cock. He’s good at this part and he’s not embarrassed to admit that he likes to show off for Keith. He flattens his tongue along the underside of Keith’s cock, feels each little bump, and sinks forward, swallowing him fully until his nose bumps up against Keith's stomach. 

He holds himself steady, throat tightening against the urge to choke. He loves this part, too— being so full, being so close to Keith like this. He won’t pretend he isn’t proud of his ability to get Keith down, especially because it always floors Keith. Shiro slips his hands up and holds Keith steady, fingers curled around his waist. He’s so small there, small enough that Shiro can nearly meet his fingers in the middle, especially considering how massive the Altean hand is. 

“ _Shiro,_ ” Keith groans out, breathless and devotional. 

Shiro lets out a soft sound, staring up at Keith. Keith can’t answer him, though, too busy petting his fingers through Shiro’s hair and cupping the back of his head, holding him close. He doesn’t dare move Shiro, giving him time to adjust, but Shiro can feel the urge to thrust into him all through Keith’s body, taut and rippling with withheld movement. Keith’s still until Shiro squeezes his waist, then Keith pulses forward in shallow thrusts, fucking Shiro’s mouth. 

It’s blissful, that feeling of Keith’s cock gliding over his tongue, rocking into his mouth. The movements are shallow, nowhere left for Keith to go, but both of them unwilling to pull away. Shiro slides his hands down to cup Keith’s ass and keep him there, working his throat around his cock. 

“Look,” Keith finally manages, tearing his eyes away from Shiro and looking at the mirror. Shiro whimpers but does as he asks, turning his eyes towards himself. 

It’s almost strange to see himself like this. He’s used to seeing himself as a foreign body, but the mirror adds another layer entirely. He recognizes himself, sure— the slump of his jaw, his nose bumped up against Keith’s stomach, hair pushed back from his flushed face. He looks utterly wrecked just from this. And he is. God, he is. He’d lay worship to Keith all night if he’d let him. 

“You’re so—” Keith chokes off, hips quivering. His cock pulses in Shiro’s mouth. “Nobody can look so pretty sucking dick like you do, Shiro.” 

Shiro’s mouth twitches, almost a pleased smile, and he stares at it: Keith’s cock heavy against his lips, the little bit of drool escaping from being so still and so open for so long. He wants to choke on Keith. 

Keith lifts his hands away from him and Shiro nearly cries at the loss. But Keith just smiles at his reflection, eyes warm as he pulls Shiro’s Altean hand off his ass and grabs the lube.

“I want you to get yourself ready for me,” Keith murmurs. “I want you to watch yourself do that.” 

He smiles at Shiro as he pours a generous amount of lube onto Shiro’s hand and slicks his fingers up for him, obscene with it, like he’s stroking Shiro’s cock. He makes a big show of it, curling his little fingers around Shiro’s, stroking over him until he’s slick with lube. 

“You look so good like this, Shiro,” Keith says, voice soft.

He finishes slicking Shiro’s hand up and then nudges it away. Shiro pulls his mouth off Keith’s cock with a longing sigh, widening his stance and spreading his legs. 

“Go lower,” Keith instructs as he sinks further down onto his knees, adjusting his position, too. Shiro goes willingly, sinking down so that his legs are folded beneath him and he’s pressed belly-down against the pillow beneath him. He keeps his legs spread so he can reach himself and strokes his fingers over his hole. He strokes only once before he starts prodding at his rim. 

He’d normally take more time, more care, if he were doing this to Keith. But since he’s fingering himself, he’s only perfunctory in his teasing before he sets to work. He likes the feeling of being pulled open but he much prefers the drag of Keith’s heavy cock inside him. Still, Keith gave him a task and he’s hardly one to neglect a request from Keith. 

“Fuck,” Keith breathes, with feeling. “Look at you.”

It’s more wondering than anything else, the way his eyes drag over Shiro. It isn’t a command for Shiro to look, but he does it anyway. He studies himself in the mirror, the curve of his body, the arch of his back. He can’t see his cock at this angle, but he feels it pressed up against the pillow, neglected but seeking friction. His hand hovers at an easy angle to finger himself, one extreme benefit to a floating arm, really. The tapered, purpled tip of Keith’s cock smears against his mouth, lips slick with spit and come. 

Shiro arches his back as he slips one finger inside himself. He loves opening Keith up on these fingers, loves how big they are when they enter Keith. For himself, they’re definitely a stretch but not one he focuses on. Instead, he suckles at Keith’s cockhead and presses forward again, eager to get him down deep once more. 

He moans happily at each ridged bump of Keith’s cock as it slides into his mouth. He feels his pleasure mounting, his claws pricking where he holds Keith’s hip, his senses heightening enough that he can almost hear Keith’s pounding heart. 

“Careful of your fangs, babe,” Keith murmurs, and his own face is morphed with desire and arousal, cheeks flushed and his wicked smile hinting fangs, too. His eyes are still that familiar cat-like, slit at the pupils and a bright, otherworldly purple. 

Shiro pulls away from Keith’s cock with a little breath and Keith’s there, petting his hair and then his face. He thumbs at Shiro’s mouth, lips swollen from sucking him off and drags the pad of his thumb over one of Shiro’s fangs. 

“So handsome,” Keith murmurs and Shiro shivers. “And look at how good you take yourself, too,” Keith coos, his eyes behind Shiro. Shiro forces himself to obey Keith’s command, eyes traveling down the length of his body in his reflection, watching his large, mechanical fingers disappear inside himself. The angle’s wrong to get a good look, but he knows he’s making quite the scene for Keith. 

He tries to imagine himself as Keith sees him, but he can’t. He closes his eyes and moans, mouthing at Keith’s cock instead. He’s more careful now, mindful of his sharpening teeth. 

Keith would think he looks handsome like this. Keith would love the way he stretches out, relaxed and pliant. Keith would love the way his hair falls into his eyes, the almost coy way he looks up at Keith through his lashes as he laves his tongue down the length of his cock. He’d love every quiver of his hips as he fingers himself open, slipping in a second finger now and scissoring. 

He wouldn’t care that Shiro’s back is scarred to hell and back. He wouldn’t care that his hair’s silver and just a little thin at the temples now. Shiro could look like a turnip and Keith would still find him handsome. 

Even if he can’t see it when he looks at himself, it’s still vastly reassuring to know it’s how Keith feels. He drags his eyes over the reflection of Keith’s body, the swell of his cock in his mouth, his round ass, his lean muscles, his hair growing long and wavy at the nape of his neck. 

“I love you so much, Shiro,” Keith whispers, interrupting Shiro’s thoughts. “You’re so beautiful.” 

Shiro’s response is just a breathless whimper as he curls his tongue around Keith’s cockhead. 

“Can’t wait to be inside you,” Keith murmurs. He curls his fingers tight in Shiro’s hair and tugs back so he slips off Keith’s cock with a soft moan. He thumbs at his mouth, cleaning away the precome and spit over his chin. “Ready?” 

“Yeah,” Shiro whispers, his voice wrecked even to his own ears, raspy and raw from Keith’s cock down his throat. 

Keith smiles at him, sweetly, and pets his face. His claws kiss the edge of Shiro’s jaw but Shiro feels no fear of getting cut. Keith’s in control and so careful. He’ll never hurt him. 

Keith cups his face and stoops down, tipping Shiro’s head up so he can kiss him. His fangs drag over Shiro’s lip and Shiro groans, opening to him and sucking Keith’s tongue into his mouth. Keith hums happily, deepening the kiss and licking into Shiro’s mouth. 

When he draws away again, he thumbs at Shiro’s fangs, almost fondly. Shiro blushes and sits up to kiss Keith again, short and sweet. 

“How do you want me?” he asks, curling his hand around Keith’s cock and stroking him off lazily. 

Keith hums, tipping forward to mouth at Shiro’s neck and nuzzling his shoulder. “Facing the mirror.”

Shiro expected the response and nods, nosing into Keith’s hair and kissing the sharpened edge of his ear, pointed at the tip now, and then turns towards the mirror. He shuffles forward, letting his eyes pass over himself. All those scars, all those muscles. His cock twitches and this deep into his arousal, he can see the shaded whisper of Galra stripes on his thighs. He adjusts his stance and then looks over his shoulder at Keith. 

“Touch yourself like I’d touch you,” Keith whispers, draped against his back. At this angle, Shiro can barely see Keith in the mirror. It forces him to focus on himself. 

One of Keith’s hands brushes up and down his chest, petting him, tracing down over his stomach, thumbing at the trail of hair leading down to his cock. 

Shiro swallows and takes his cock in hand, tugging gently a few times. Not enough to pull any sigh from his throat but more to adjust his grip to fit the way Keith would touch him. 

Keith is quick, hardly ever has patience on himself, but with Shiro he’s always achingly slow because he knows Shiro likes that. Likes the way pleasure mounts inside him. He’s always so gentle with Shiro. 

Shiro looks at his hand around his cock in the mirror. His cock doesn’t have Keith’s Galran ridges, but there’s almost a shadow of it now. It’s a little heavier than he remembers it being before his cloning. Shiro thumbs at his cockhead and cups his hand over it, twisting in a light corkscrew the way Keith likes to tease him. 

He gasps when he feels Keith’s fingers prodding at his hole, testing how well he’s prepared himself. His fingers slip in easily, teasing at him. 

“Keith,” he whispers as he squeezes around the base of his cock. 

Keith mouths at his back, fangs catching and dragging lightly over his skin. “Ready for me?” 

“Mm,” Shiro hums. “Please.” 

Keith’s hand plants itself heavy against Shiro’s spine and shoves him forward. Shiro gasps out happily as he nearly loses his balance, hand flying up to slam against the mirror. It rattles against the door and Shiro stares at his hand, splayed out and pointed with sharpened, pronounced claws. 

And then Keith’s slipping his cock inside him and it’s bliss. He cries out, ducking his head and thumping his forehead against the cool surface of the mirror. He meets his own eyes as Keith pushes into him, an easy slide until he’s fully seated inside him. 

“ _Keith,_ ” Shiro keens. 

Keith hums behind him and kisses the back of his neck. 

“Tell me what you see, Shiro,” Keith murmurs as he rocks his hips forward in a shallow thrust that leaves Shiro gasping. 

Shiro pulls away from the mirror enough to look properly. All he can see is his flushed face. Up close, he can see now that his eyes have gone cat-like, the whites of his eyes bleeding yellow. He swallows and watches the bob of his throat.

When Keith rocks into him again, Shiro’s mouth falls open with a gasp. His hair falls into his eyes. 

“Tell me,” Keith whispers, gently, a request and command at once. 

“Me,” Shiro says, for lack of anything better to say. He angles his hips back to meet Keith’s thrusts, using his hand against the mirror as leverage. 

“And?” Keith prompts. 

And he doesn’t know what else. It’s him. It’s as much him as anything else in this universe can be, probably. 

“What do you think I see?” Keith murmurs and Shiro wishes he could see Keith instead. All that’s visible of him at this angle, with Keith hunched over and draped across his back, is the top of his head and the inky spill of his black hair. 

He tries to find an answer without getting distracted as Keith thrusts into him. He tries to imagine what Keith would see in him when he’s like this, sweaty and gasping. He’d like the flex of his muscles, Shiro decides. He’d like that he can make Shiro lose control of his senses. Shiro always loves it when Keith goes Galra during sex, considers it a high compliment when Keith babbles his name and nearly pierces his lip with his fangs. It must be the same for Keith, too, seeing Shiro turn at least the shadow of Galra. 

He can’t manage an answer but Keith rewards him all the same, his hand curling around Shiro’s cock and stroking him off until he comes. His come splatters against the mirrored edge and he rocks forward helplessly, his hand scrambling back to cup Keith’s hip and guide him in. 

He clenches around Keith, eager to get him to come, and with a huff, Keith thrusts into him mercilessly and then comes with a low groan of Shiro’s name. He nuzzles against him, his breath raspy like a purr as he ruts against him. 

He pulls out of Shiro once he’s spent and Shiro lets out a throaty sound before slumping forward. 

Keith’s hands are on him, soothing him. Shiro heaves a breath and then turns around. He pulls Keith into his arms and kisses him hard. 

Keith hums, leaning back and drawing Shiro over him as he goes. Shiro goes eagerly, feeling boneless and pleased in the wake of his orgasm, feeling just a little bit of Keith’s come slip out of him as he moves. 

Once he’s pressed full-bodied to Keith, Keith hitches his leg around Shiro’s hips and turns them so Shiro’s splayed out on his back instead. Keith kisses him slow and sensual, pulling every breath and sound from Shiro’s lungs until it’s almost too much. 

“Keep looking,” Keith murmurs as he pulls back, planting one last kiss on Shiro’s panting mouth before working his way down Shiro’s body. His lips and teeth drag over Shiro’s feverish skin, mouthing at his nipples and licking the slope of his muscles. It’s almost too much, almost too close to overstimulation in the wake of his orgasm, but Shiro can deny Keith nothing and it feels good. 

Shiro turns his head and looks in the mirror. He laughs out, breathless, and wipes his hand over the glass, smearing away his come. He watches his reflection smile, wondering. 

“Yeah?” Keith whispers, watching him in the mirror, mouthing at his hip. 

Shiro isn’t surprised to see Keith’s still half-hard. Shiro hasn’t quite inherited the same Galra stamina with this body, but with some coaxing he’s sure he can get there. 

Shiro fumbles for the words, to put words to his desire. “I want— I want—” 

“Tell me,” Keith whispers. 

“I want to see you,” Shiro answers, something that’s almost begging. 

Keith smiles at him, so soft and so gentle that it nearly breaks Shiro’s heart. 

“Here’s what we’ll do, Shiro,” Keith whispers, running a hand over Shiro’s belly and down, curling around his cock and stroking him. He’s soft from coming but gives a little twitch in Keith’s hand. “I’ll let you look at me all you want in a minute if you’re good now.” 

Shiro’s nodding before the words fully process. “What do you want me to do?” 

“Just lie there, like this,” Keith murmurs, running his palms down Shiro’s thighs. “Let me take care of you and then you can look at me all you want. But you have to watch yourself. If you look away, I’ll stop. Got it?” 

Shiro nods and forces himself to look away from Keith and towards the mirror again. He holds his own gaze, meeting his eyes. Again, he tries to see himself as he thinks Keith must— he must look attractive with flushed cheeks, his hair matted up and stuck to his forehead, his lips chapped and kiss-swollen, mouth parted as he pants for breath. He always loves the way Keith looks when he’s sexed out. He can imagine Keith feels the same about him.

“Good,” Keith whispers and presses a sucking kiss to Shiro’s hip. “Just like that, babe. Look at how beautiful you are.”

Shiro can’t answer but he bites his lip when he feels Keith press two fingers inside of him. He’s wet and sloppy from Keith’s come and lube, and it’s an easy slide. He shuts his eyes and sucks in a sharp breath but forces himself to open his eyes and stare at himself. 

“You look so good,” Keith murmurs. 

Keith’s positioned himself so he’s lying beside Shiro, perfectly hidden behind Shiro’s bent knee, so Shiro can barely see him out of the corner of his eye. He’s tucked up next to Shiro’s hip as his fingers scissor inside Shiro, playing with him just on the edge of too much. His other hand curls around his cock and strokes him to half-hardness. 

“Tell me how hot you look, Shiro.” 

Shiro still can’t answer but he doesn’t look away. He studies the flex and slackening of his jaw, the tension in his body as he bows beneath Keith’s attentions, his muscles rippling. There are scars thatching over his skin, a particularly nasty one on his upper thigh in the shape of his own handprint. It’s crossed over with Galran stripes now, not like Keith’s purple ones but a deeper color of his own skin tone. 

He watches Keith’s hand stroke over his cock. Shiro’s quiet, just watching the movement, watching himself swell and harden with Keith’s attention. Keith's hand looks so small, his fingers not even meeting at the thickest part of Shiro’s cock. Keith has his cheek resting against Shiro’s hip and Shiro draws in a breath as he glances away from the mirror and down, taking in Keith’s expression as he watches Shiro watching himself— eyes so dark with desire, and so gentle. His smile is sweet.

And then, tortuously, he stops touching Shiro as soon as he sees Shiro looking. He lets go of his cock and draws his fingers out of his body. Shiro gasps at the sudden emptiness.

“Be good,” Keith tells him and his breath ghosts over Shiro’s sensitive skin. “Be good, Shiro.”

“Fuck,” Shiro gasps, body trembling, and forces himself to turn his head and look back at the mirror. “Keith—” 

Keith’s hands return to his body as soon as Shiro locks eyes with his reflection. Shiro feels Keith’s fingers curl around the base of him and squeeze, feels his two fingers squeeze back inside him, stroking into him with shallow little thrusts. 

“Just look at yourself,” Keith sighs. “I could look at you forever, Shiro. I love your ears.” 

Shiro’s eyes stray to his ears, studying them with a perplexed frown. 

“I love your nose,” Keith murmurs and Shiro looks there, too. “Your mouth. Your smile. God, your shoulders. Your hands. All of it.” 

With each part of him Keith names, Shiro studies himself, lets himself really look. He’s trembling, he realizes, and he’s not sure if it’s overstimulation in the physical sense or the emotional sense.

“Your eyes,” Keith whispers. “How you look at me. Like I’m everything.” Keith nuzzles at Shiro’s hip, squeezing around his cock. “But, god, Shiro. It’s you. _You’re_ everything.” Keith’s quiet for a moment and Shiro’s obedient, not looking away from his own eyes. Keith breathes out, shaky. “You’re my everything.” 

“Yes,” Shiro whispers, trembling. 

Keith soothes him, his hand dragging over his thigh, up his hip, along his ribs. It’s grounding and Shiro focuses on that, watching Keith’s hand move over his body. Keith traces along his faint scars. His fingers inside of Shiro stretch and tug at his rim, an unnecessary but pleasurable stretch. 

“I know it isn’t easy for you, Shiro,” Keith murmurs, his hand finding Shiro’s. Their fingers thread together and Keith squeezes. Helplessly, Shiro squeezes back. He can hear Keith’s smile when he speaks, gentle and sweet, and longs to look at him: “I know when you look at yourself, you see the negative. But for me… when I look at you, when I see you alive and happy and with me?” Keith presses a kiss to Shiro’s belly, mouthing at his skin there. “I’m so happy you’re here with me. I’m so glad that even with everything that’s happened, you’re still kind and good and loving.” 

“Keith,” Shiro whispers, helplessly. He blinks back tears— and it looks odd in his Galra eyes, but he doesn’t try to fight it. 

Keith scoots up his body, hovering over him. His hands leave Shiro’s body only for a moment, only so he can pick up his thighs and guide them to wrap around his hips. He lines himself up against Shiro and slips in again, easy and home. 

Shiro closes his eyes and lets himself feel it, trembling all over. 

“Hey,” Keith whispers, voice right up against his ear. “Look at me?” 

Shiro turns his head immediately, blinking his eyes open and meeting Keith’s soft gaze. 

“Hi, Handsome,” Keith says once he’s looking and Shiro feels himself blush. 

“Hi yourself,” Shiro says and groans when Keith rocks forward, pressing deeper into him. Keith laughs, breathless and tender, and kisses Shiro gently. “Hey…”

“Mm?” Keith prompts, pressing his forehead to Shiro’s. 

“You’re so beautiful, too,” Shiro whispers. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Shiro agrees, clutching at Keith, mouthing at his jaw. “My beautiful baby.” 

Keith blushes and giggles and turns his head again to draw Shiro into a searing kiss. Shiro sighs, melting beneath him, and lets Keith thrust into him. 

They set a steady pace, not as frenzied as before, but taking their time, pressing their bodies together. It’s so soon after the first round that Shiro feels tingly all over and can tell from Keith’s movements that he’s feeling sensitive, too, all jittery. 

Shiro clings to him, though, legs and arms tight around him, refusing to let go. Shiro sighs and turns his head back towards the mirror one last time. 

He studies himself as Keith fucks into him, taking it all in— not just the way his expression ripples with desire, but the way his body flexes and relaxes, the way he rises up to meet Keith. The way he moves with Keith. There’s the way hair falls in Keith’s eyes as he ducks his head, focusing on thrusting into Shiro. There’s the way Shiro’s legs look wrapped around Keith’s waist. 

Sex isn’t really objectively beautiful, Shiro thinks, not in reality. But he feels beautiful in Keith’s hands. He thinks he sees what Keith sees in him, like this: the strength of his body, the trust he places in Keith, that vulnerability of just being close to him like this. He knows what Keith loves about him, knows that Keith loves everything, even the darkest parts of him. 

He thinks, if only for a moment, that yes— he is beautiful. 

He feels Keith nose at his cheek and then turn, pressing down to meet him. They’re cheek to cheek, watching themselves in the mirror. Up close, the similarities are clear— their eyes sharpened and Galran, mouths full of sharp teeth. Keith smiles, sweetly, and he must see the change in Shiro’s eyes, must guess what Shiro is thinking as he watches himself. 

“Shiro,” Keith murmurs, reverential and worshipful. 

Shiro smiles at Keith in the mirror, looking at him, looking at the way they look together. 

“Ready to come again, Handsome?” Keith whispers into his ear and Shiro nods, mouthing out a breathless _please_ before biting his lip, keening when Keith starts rocking into him in earnest, his hand squirming between them to wrap around his cock and stroke him off. 

Keith’s so careful with him. He times the thrust of his hips to meet the tug of his hand and it pushes Shiro closer and closer to that edge.

“Everything,” Keith whispers, expression absolutely melting when Shiro looks up at him, “My everything.” 

Shiro smiles back, overwhelmed, and feels himself tearing up before he lurches up and catches Keith’s smile in a kiss. 

When Shiro comes, it’s almost an afterthought, he’s so focused on kissing Keith. He cries out helplessly into the kiss and rocks against Keith’s hand and back down onto his cock, unsure which sensation he’d rather chase. 

But Keith isn’t far behind him, thrusting shallowly until Shiro feels him spill inside him. 

In the wake of their orgasms, they’re quiet, panting open-mouthed against one another. 

“Yeah,” Shiro whispers into Keith’s mouth. 

“Mm?” 

“Yeah,” Shiro says again, drawing back to blink up at Keith, feeling sluggish and sated. He pets his fingers through Keith’s hair, letting his claws scratch so gently at his scalp. “I see it. What you see.”

Keith’s eyes light up and he beams. “You do?”

Shiro nods and traces his thumb along Keith’s jaw, over the swell of his bottom lip. “Maybe a little.”

“It’s a start,” Keith murmurs and kisses him. 

And he’s right. It is.

**Author's Note:**

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